


One Year In Space

by mephistopheles



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mephistopheles/pseuds/mephistopheles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Enterprise is attacked, Starfleet regulations insist that they flee.  The crew leaves, but Chekov remains in space until he's not the same anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year In Space

‘SYSTEMS FAILING’ flashed in a red caps lock.  Their warp core was dishonorably discharged, and Starfleet code prohibited them from attacking.  They were running out of time as the not-so-fledgling civilization came at them.  Captain Kirk ordered an evacuation, immediately.  First to leave were the crew men and the sick; people just poured off the ship.  The hull of the ship was close to being cracked.  A furious alarm bell chimed in the back of everyone’s minds.  The bridge was in chaos as people were yelling and thinking so loud that the atmosphere hurt.  They all rushed off the bridge, even the Captain.  They were running at breakneck speed.  Chekov paused for a moment.  He tuned out the sirens, and the noise as everyone ran down the halls.  He calmly walked back onto the bridge. 

_“You either die a hero, Pavlusha, or you die a traitor to the ones you hold most dear.”_

He turned on the comms. 

_“Pavel.  Pasha.  When will you learn that you can’t do everything?”_

The image blinked on, blurry.

“ _If you’ve learned anything the whole time that you’ve been here, it’s that we’re one big family.”_

He stood up and looked straight at the commander of the rogue vessel.  “I demand you cease attack immediately.  You will be able to return safely home if you do.  I have called the fighter squad to assist me and they should be here—“  He felt the blue charm his mother gave him before her death warm.  He held it, and blacked out.

When he woke up, he was alone.  The enemy was gone.  His family was gone.  The sirens still blared as he looked out at space.  He curled into himself.  Hung on a naïve hope, he asked the Enterprise if there were any more lifeships.  There were none.  For once, he felt so alone in the void of space.  As he drifted off to sleep in the Captain’s chair, a warm pair of wings curled around him.

When he woke up, it was still dark.  The sirens had turned off. He inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sob.  He walked to his station and powered it off.  He walked around the whole bridge, putting things back in place.  He sat there for many days, curled up in the captain’s chair, watching space.

After a week, he went down to his quarters.  He neatened his bed and pulled out some photos he had taken with his crewmates.  He put them in the pocket of the giant coat he had slipped on.  He slept in his room for the first night since the attack.  The next day, he went into the others’ rooms.  He felt so empty, walking about a dead ship.  It was like being at a mortuary, tears falling as he walked into the captain’s room.  It was a messy form of organization, and on one of the board was a picture of the bridge crew.  He remembered that day.  They were all smiling after discovering one more new planet.  That was the first night that he actually felt like he was part of the family.

Two weeks later, he started to talk to himself. 

On the fifth day of the sixth week, he figured out that it was hard to die.  He had been crushed, his ribs cracked, by a loose metal beam.  He felt the blood leave him, but he did not leave with death.  Instead, he rolled out from under the beam, thanked the beam, and went on his way.

On the sixth day of the sixth week, he realized that he could fix the ship.  He could go home.  If the beam that should have killed him didn’t, maybe he could survive the radiation in the ship’s core.   That day he started work.

He worked from “day” to “night”, constantly fixing and improving the ship.  He added many new features and used logic to reverse engineer the ship—so he could fix it.

On the second day of the twentieth week, he cried.  It was his birthday.

On the fifth day of the twenty-first week, he had completed the external repairs to the ship. 

On the same day, he realized how scared he was of space.

Or was it just being alone, forever?

He entered the core for the first time on the seventh day of the twenty-first week.  It took him another two weeks to realign the cores.

On the third day of the twenty-fourth week, he realized that he would have to really spend some time with the core.  He started to talk to it.  It never responded.

On the fourth day of the thirty-second week, he tried starting the core.  He failed, shot himself in the head, and continued working on the core.

 On the first day of the fortieth week, he realized that he had no time left if he wanted to rejoin his family.  The waiting period for a crew to be reassigned after loss of ship was one year. 

He pulled the pictures out of his pocket.  He never left them, they were there even as he took a shower; his coat with them inside, hung on the wall.  He put them back.

On the third day of the forty-second week, he managed to get the core running.  It would not warp.

He spent hours on the bridge, staring out into space.  He spent more time looking at space than he ever did looking at his reflection.  He hated looking at himself in the mirror, his eyes weary, and he could feel the height difference between his old self and now.  He slit his throat once.  It didn’t leave a scar.

On the second day of the forty-third week, he tried everything.  He tried fire, poison, machinery, and even a noose.  Nothing worked.

On the seventh day of the fifty-first week, he warped.

He felt no emotion as he saw Earth.  He outstretched his hand. 

It was midnight.  He took a shower and changed.

He sat in the captain’s chair as the Enterprise descended.

On the seventh hour of the first day of the fifty-second week, he landed on Starfleet’s international space hub.  He did not feel happy.

When the gate lowered down and he stepped off it, people stared at him in wonder.  They gathered around.  He heard the sound of people running.  He turned away.

By the time the crew had reached the Enterprise, he had gone.

He was called into the Admiral’s office the next day.

He got there early enough for the Admiral to question him. He answered truthfully. 

On the eighth hour, the receptionist admitted several crew members.  They sat down nervously, wondering everything from how did the Enterprise arrive to what exactly they were doing here.  The receptionist let them in.  He stood, bowed to Captain Kirk and sat back down.

“ _Chekov_?”


End file.
